


At the temple

by Amsel



Series: When you notice a cat.. [3]
Category: The Eagle - Ambiguous Fandom, The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: Gen, pining for a pet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 21:32:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amsel/pseuds/Amsel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Another snippet from the fic that went nowhere. Can't bear to delete it, but can't do anything with it either...</p>
    </blockquote>





	At the temple

**Author's Note:**

> Another snippet from the fic that went nowhere. Can't bear to delete it, but can't do anything with it either...

The smoke curls up and around him, and Marcus gently places his other offerings on the altar before bowing his head. 

_Mithras, Lord of Light, thank you for the beneficial outcome of the surgery..._

Behind him, somebody muffles a sneeze. Marcus swallows down his irritation at being interrupted in his thoughts. 

Sneezing during religious observations should be punished, he thinks resentfully. People actually do it a lot, he just never noticed before. His slave has a really irritting sneeze, a tiny breathy one, which Marcus regularly mistakes for a sound Glaucullus made. 

Glaucullus didn't like the smell of incense...

He brings himself back to the matters at hand. 

_Mithras, Father of our fathers, accept this sacrifice in my name..._

Outside of the temple, the day is progressing on. Marcus thinks longingly of the baths. It would be good to get clean. 

There have been some friendly overtures from a couple of younger men he met at the last dinner party at old Kaeso's. They aren't Roman, they are Romanized Britons, but pleasant fellows all the same. 

Marcus was rather stiff with them, his leg hurting and his temper short, but they mentioned they often met at the baths. With the hurt gone and the wound newly closed, he feels almost sociable again. Spending the afternoon in the baths sounds like a good idea to him. 

He gets up to leave, nodding to the bust of Antonius Pius. He makes his way to the door, revelling in the stretch and power of his leg, the limp still pronounced, but so much better than before. He never realised until it was gone how much putting both feet on the floor was a pleasure...

Esca soundlessly follows him. A quick glance over his shoulder shows that the slave is trying not to scowl.

Marcus nearly sighs, but decides against saying something. What is there to say, anyway? Stop being sullen? He could beat it out of him, but he doesn't want to. Anyway, in an uncanny way, Esca is comfortable to be around. As if he's always been there, shared his life...

They get to the temple door, and Marcus almost steps out into the band of sunlight acoss the threshold, when he sees a tiny little altar out of the corner of his eye. He stops so abruptly Esca narly crashes into him. Then he changes direction to look at it. 

He nearly laughs.  
Somewhere in Calleva lives an Egyptian. 

He is looking at an altar to Bastet. A bowl of fruit sits on the ground beneath the small and rather crude carving of a woman with a cat's head. 

With a thump, he kneels. 

There's an exclamation behind him.

"Domine?" Esca asks, reaching for him, for his shoulder.

"Esca, go and get me some fruit from the market," Marcus says with a breathless laugh.

"Fruit?" Esca asks puzzled.

"Yes. Quickly," Marcus snaps, a little sharper than he meant. "And before you go, get me an incense cone."

He points to the priest guarding a basketful of the cones, ready to sell them to worshippers.

Esca scampers off, to the priest to get a cone, bringing it back before leaving the temple. 

_Bastet, lady of joy, extend your protection over Glaucullus, let him be safe..._

It must be the incense that makes him tear up, Marcus thinks. Romans don't cry. Not over something as inconsequential as a cat. 

Esca returns with a couple of apples and a parsnip. Quickly, Marcus dries his eyes and lays them on the altar, then comes to his feet. He feels drained, and decides against the baths. 

"We're going back to the villa," he announces.

"Which goddess was that, domine?" Esca asks hesitantly.

"Bastet," Marcus says briefly. "I need your shoulder,"

Esca comes to his side, and Marus grips the strong shoulder gratefully. 

"I don't know her. Is she a Roman goddess?" Esca asks diffidently. 

"She's Egyptian," Macus explains. "I didn't know there was an altar to her here. Romans don't really pray to her,"

"But you did," Esca says quietly.

"Not really. Well. Not for me, anyway," Marcus says. "You see, I had a cat once,"

Esca stumbles. Marcus curses as he has to catch his weight.

"I'm sorry, domine," Esca says, head low.

Marcus curses. After a minute, he can move on, but this time, he doesn't lean on Esca's shoulder.

"Your cat domine?" Esca prompts after a few minutes.

"Glaucullus. He - well, I suppose he was the fort cat. Kept the rats and mice down. He used to lay all over my paperwork, until I only had the merest sliver of space to work on. I had made up a basket for him, but he always insisted on sleeping on my bed. He went missing after the battle in which my leg - well."

Uncomfortably, Marcus stops. He feels like he said too much.


End file.
